Prisons
by LuvEwan
Summary: Qui-Gon was nearly killed on Naboo; years later, he pays a visit to his would-be killer. AU to the ending of TPM.


Prisons

PG

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me

Summary: Qui-Gon was nearly killed on Naboo; years later, he pays a visit to his would-be killer. AU to the ending of TPM.

--

The wound opposite his heart always ached in the cold. Qui-Gon Jinn stepped off the ship's ramp and winced as the gray ice-breeze hit straight through his heavy thermals and cloak. He would need to walk nearly an hour in the snow--his pilot could land no closer to the prison.

Qui-Gon could not decide whether he should be grateful for the time of solitude. Empty minutes were easily filled by thoughts, and this place roused his darker musings. The wound beat in time with his heart.

He turned and waved off the pilot. An unnamed feeling surged through his chest when the ship lifted into the muted sky; he would not call it panic. Certainly it was not the most challenging situation a Jedi had ever faced. And besides, it was a voluntary excursion on his part.

An excursion most of his peers, and his own apprentice, did not understand. Every day he put Naboo behind him again, worked his body harder to compensate for lingering weaknesses, meditated on mortality and loss and, during long, open-eyed nights, the will of the Force itself. What man in his right mind would want to visit his attempted killer, a clear enemy of the Jedi Order?

He had fought the Council to come the first time. Only after a private session with Yoda was permission given. Now Qui-Gon was required to meet with him before and after every trip (perhaps to reassure Yoda he was still sane).

_"Keep the scar, you do."_

_"Yes, Master."_

_"Then in a prison, you keep yourself. Why go to another?"_

_"...I do what I must."_

The wind beat him back, but the ship was gone. He pressed his boots firmly into the snow and kept walking.

--

He surrendered his saber and cloak to a guard with a straight mouth and heavy brow. Scanners passed over his body, to ensure he was not harboring any other weapons. He was asked to remove his boots, and his belt, both of which were manually checked. Qui-Gon handed the guard his identification, and then waited for it to be validated through the Temple. The guard told him the rules for prisoner/visitor interaction.

Qui-Gon could recite those rules from memory, but remained silent, nodded. His double pulse sounded above the guard's droning voice. On Naboo, he learned how a saber felt passing through skin, through bone, through layers of precious tissue. The burn, the agony, the sense of betrayal, from this weapon that dictated his own existence. It would not pass into memory, lose that sharp edge of immediacy. A part of him was still in the Theed hangar bay, so similar to the prison with its silver, hollow innards.

They entered the lift, where the guard's hand and right eye was scanned.

"I understand that you have been granted an extended visit, Master Jinn."

"Yes." He said, barely recognizing the rasp in his voice. "Two standard days."

The guard's flat demeanor flared suddenly with interest. "Two days? With _him_?" He snorted, "I've never dealt with such a boring prisoner. Who knows why so many guards get assigned to him."

Qui-Gon sighed. "He is a highly trained user of the Force. Without necessary precautions, he could kill you without a touch."

The guard shrugged and glanced away. "Then I really don't understand what you want with him."

Qui-Gon's hand drifted over his wound. "I only want to understand." He murmured in response, although too soft for the other man to hear.

--

At the broad, steel cell door, the guard performed yet another series of security and identity tests. "Personnel is posted out here, and the cell itself is under surveillance. If you want out, we can get you out almost immediately."

Qui-Gon nodded. "There won't be a problem."

"That's what the dead man said." The guard chuckled. The door opened, and the guard motioned with his head for Qui-Gon to enter.

--

The air was gone, replaced with shadows. The Force flexed.

Qui-Gon stood just inside the sealed door. The cell consisted of a narrow bunk, a sink, a toilet and smooth, unmarked walls.

If Obi-Wan were not lying on the bunk, Qui-Gon would not have believed anyone really lived there.

"I hear you're refusing food again," Qui-Gon said. He crossed the small space, his steps resounding in the silence, and sat down on the bunk's edge. "I thought we'd settled that issue long ago."

Obi-Wan was not looking at him.

Qui-Gon did not want to look at Obi-Wan, either. He hated how sallow his face was, hard-lined by voluntary emaciation. All human and humanoid prisoners' heads were shaved, leaving Obi-Wan paler without the thickness of his brown hair. Qui-Gon placed his hand against the bare curve of the skull.

Obi-Wan sunk away from his touch. Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan had never agreed to these visits, but a prisoner's autonomy was nothing compared to that of a Jedi Master's. "I'll be here two days."

Obi-Wan said nothing.

Qui-Gon decided it would be best to shed his tears now, while Obi-Wan silently adjusted to his presence. He dropped his face into his hands, and cried.

--


End file.
